The 71st Hunger Games
by thekeeperofkeys
Summary: Johanna Mason's Hunger Games! In this story, there is her District and the arena in which she fought which was entirely my own invention so, hope you guys like it! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**The 71****st**** Hunger Games- Chapter 1**

When I wake up, I see sunlight streaming in through the closed, wooden blinds of my confined hut. I prop myself up on my elbows and survey my room as I awaken myself properly. It is a mess. Clothes thrown carelessly around everywhere, pencils strewn haphazardly across my wooden desk. I get up out of bed and my feet find the warm, bronze floorboard of my room. I approach my mirror and, slowly, undo my black, curly hair from the knot I had it in. It falls messily around my shoulders. I stare at my reflection, narrowing my face at a particular angle at which I look quite dangerous. Walking out of my room, I cross the narrow hall to my brother's room.

"Tiberius! Wake up! It's reaping day, you need to have a bath!" I shout, banging my fists against the wooden door. In the time it takes my brother to rise, I'm showered and dressed in casual clothes. The reaping is not for another two hours. I decide to kill time by cleaning up the house, staying clear of my room, deciding to tackle it after the reaping… if I do make it out, that is. I then decide to take my axe and explore the familiar surroundings of my hut, just for fun. I have embraced the possibility that this may very well be my last glimpse of the tall, thinly branched trees that are so close together that they shield us from the full power of the sun. Instead, they create an environment I can only describe as spring. It's way too hot for spring though, so I take off my black jacket. I am now in my white, loose t-shirt and a pair of tight black pants that stop at my shins. I weave myself through the trees that I have familiarized myself with, all the while carrying my axe. All of a sudden, an overwhelming rage overcomes me and I bury my axe in the trunk of a tree. Tears of anger intermingled with sadness trickle down my cheek as I look at the axe inside the tree.

"They can't just…" I finish my sentence with a strangled gasp, stifling the tears and burying the anger inside myself.

"You OK?" I hear my brother's voice behind me. I abruptly turn, and smile at him with sad eyes; a fifteen year old who is mature way beyond his years, trying to comfort his seventeen-year-old sister who can barely control her anger.

"Yeah…I'm okay… Just having a bad day," I say, as I embrace him.

"It's only 9:30. Things can still pick up, you know," he says, jokingly. I smile but don't laugh. The truth is that I'm terrified for the reaping. Whatever image of toughness and maturity I project towards my brother is merely a guard. I can't stand the idea of being put into an arena full of other teenagers and being forced to fight to the death. I am disgusted by it, and I wonder how humanity has reached this point- the point at which we humans are so hungry for entertainment that we will sacrifice our own species to fulfill our desires. It makes me sick, frankly. And I can't bear to think about it, so I change the subject, allowing my heroic, brave exterior to present itself.

"Did you have a bath yet? You want to look nice for the Capitol people," I say, pulling my axe out of the tree. We both smile. The nature of our relationship is different today. Usually it's just all jokes and pranks but on this day, all of that changes and we become strangers to one another.

"I had one just before I came out," he answers. I nod my approval. We start to head back toward our house to get in our formal attire. It's already been two hours. I guess time flies when you're having fun. After getting dressed, I stare at myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a green dress that's been sewn by my mother. There is a wide belt around my waistline and I put my hair into a bun before we go. My brother and I both see each other in the narrow hall and smile. He's wearing a loose, blue t-shirt and light brown pants. When we go to the kitchen, both our parents await us in equally formal clothing.

"Well… you look beautiful," my mother says, trailing off. I've never even truly comfortable around her.

"Thanks, mum. Don't worry, we'll be fine," I reassure her, but I myself know I'm not fooling anyone.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," my father says, awkwardly. We quickly embrace one another and my brother and I exit the hut and head straight for the city square, out of the forest. We walk in silence until we reach the area in the city where the reaping will take place. The grass is perfectly cut and a vibrant green and I see teenagers sitting down in little groups all over the expanse, chatting quietly and nervously. Surrounding the green field are a variety of buildings. The field was placed in the middle of these buildings to demonstrate the contrast between nature and all man-made things. I prefer the field. I find my group of friends and Tiberius is close on my heels. We sit ourselves down and that's when everyone goes silent. I stare around for a second, wondering what's happened. That's when I see the Capitol woman. I identified her at once. You don't need a magnifying glass or an accent for this at all, let me tell you. She's wearing a dark blue dress that has many foldings all around it. Extravagant and unnecessarily large shoulder pads protrude from just under her neck. Her complexion itself is remarkable. So remarkable that I'm questioning whether she's human or not. She has this weird tint to her skin on her cheek when she moves her head that makes her look like she has scales. Her eyelashes are extremely long and gold. Her hair however, falls naturally around her left shoulder. She is blonde but dark brown streaks are visible underneath it.

"Good morning… people of District 7," she says in her funny Capitol accent, "I am here to announce to female and male tributes for the seventy-first annual Hunger Games," she says, excitedly as she gives an energetic clap. No one follows suit but merely stares at her. "OK then… let's get started shall we, if there is no further comment," she adds this last part as she takes her first step toward the glass bowl that holds all the female names. "Ladies first!" she squeals excitedly. I can't help but think she is just as despicable as the rest of them, getting excited about drawing out the name of the person, pretty much guaranteeing them a death sentence. She sticks her hand in and shoves it deep inside all the little slips of paper. 5 of them have my name on them. She swirls things around before she extracts one slip. She walks slowly toward her original position. I can feel sweat gathering in my palms as my anticipation builds. What if it's me? What will happen to my family? Nothing, that's what. They will go on living their lives as usual. My absence will not cause some unsolvable problem. I'm staring at the ground as I think of this. Remembering where I am, my head snaps back up. I watch her slowly; agonizingly unfold the small piece of paper that has the potential to ruin my life. She clears her throat. I can't take it any longer. Tell me the name. What is the name?

"Johanna Mason."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters in this story, they belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins!

**Chapter 2**

I don't really know what has just happened. At first, I think I misheard-that, perhaps the nerves had just gotten to me and I was hearing things, but the looks on my friends' faces say it all. My heart starts to pound really fast, and I begin to panic. This can't be happening. There are over a hundred names in that damn glass bowl and mine gets chosen. I can feel my facial features shape into those of shock and disbelief. No, this isn't happening. I haven't just been chosen for the Hunger Games.

"Do we have a Johanna Mason here?" the Capitol woman says, in her annoying, squeaky tone. "Come on dear, we haven't got all day," she says, with an exasperated sigh. I think of the irony in that sigh. She is annoyed because I'm taking up her time. She has all the time in the world, but according to that tiny slip of paper, I don't have much of it at all. I make myself stand and my knees start trembling. I then remember that I'm on camera. I should appear as a strong, worthy opponent. Not a weakling who can't even control her own knees. But then it hits me. If I pretend to be weak, maybe they will all underestimate me. Maybe I shouldn't show my incredible talent with an axe. Maybe I should appear as weak and incapable so they don't think much of me. This is a good plan. If I'm going into the arena, I should start coming up with more of those. I allow my knees to tremble and constantly hit against each other as I weave through the many groups of teenagers, staring up at me. I turn left when I reach the stone stage of the Justice Building so that I can walk up the stairs. It also gives me time to make myself cry. I think of my brother lying on the ground, dead, with a trickle of blood seeping out of his mouth. I think of all the trees in the District, blown up by an explosion masterminded by the Capitol. I think of the bland earth that would remain. This gets me going and, by the time I reach the stage, I'm crying.

"What an honor it is to be chosen as tribute, hmm Johanna?" asks the lady, holding the microphone up to my face.

"Y-yes," I reply, allowing the tears to trickle down my cheeks, as I stare down at the stone I'm standing on.

"Oh don't cry, dear! Come on, chin up. Stand up straight. Give your District pride!" she exclaims, "Oh also, it's Tessa," she says with a smile. I try to hold my head up and stand up straight as she asks. I find myself staring at the sky and a flock of birds, flying overhead. I think of the freedom and all the time they have.

"Congratulations dear!" she squeals, excitedly. "Who will be the male tribute? Let's find out, shall we?" she says, in an attempt at a captivating tone. Everyone stares plainly at her. She walks quickly over to the glass bowl, which holds the boys' names in there. I watch her as she pulls out a name, taking as much time as she did before. She walks over to the centre of the stage, holds the microphone up and says "Henry Mathers!" After a few minutes of Tessa trying to coax the boy up here, I notice he's just over half my height. The District is huge and I've never seen him before, but he's almost certainly a twelve year old. A surge of hate passes through me. What kinds of people find entertainment in young children killing each other?

"Well… here are our tributes from District 7!" Tessa exclaims. He doesn't show any signs of recognition. He stares out at the crowd of teenagers, just like me. "Alright, lets get going then!" says Tessa. Two peacekeepers usher us into the door of the Justice Building and take us through a series of long hallways. We end up in a narrow corridor with two doors on each side. I go into the right and he goes into the left. This is where I will say my last words to my family and friends. After several painful minutes, I hear the knob of the door turn and my brother, mother and father walk inside. My brother heads straight for me and embraces me in a tight hug. The tears that gush out of my eyes this time are real.

"You can do it you know! We all know you can do it! You can use an axe and you will win, you hear me?" he says, pained. I nod and he steps aside to allow my parents to look at me. They both stare, in disbelief about what' s just happened. There are no tears. We merely hug and say goodbye. Before I know it, they are sent out and my next visitors are ushered in. My friends Mathias and Blight come in.

"The girls are hysterical. They didn't want to come in because they thought they wouldn't be able to say goodbye," explains Blight.

"That's okay… I understand," I reply. I hug each of them and they leave. Mathias starts crying. He didn't say anything to me. I think he found it too painful as well. No one else comes to see me afterwards, so I'm just sitting in here waiting. Henry must have quite a few visitors. The walls of the room are painted a sky blue and the sofa I'm sitting on white, with material as tough as canvas. I run my hand along it. I won't be able to enjoy the District 7 pleasures anymore… may as well soak up as much as I can before I go. After what feels like hours, a bald man with grey stubble walks into the room, smiling.

"Come on, girl," he says, in a gentle tone, "it's time to go." He tries to help me up and I let him, acting feeble. There may not be any cameras on me at the moment but you can never be too careful. I let him hold me as we walk down the narrow corridor into the zigzag of hallways once again. I don't even know who this old man is. For all I know, he could've told the peacekeepers her was a visitor and is now trying to sneak me out. That would be too good to be true. There are almost certainly cameras in the Justice Building and we would've been stopped by now. The old man takes me through the hallways towards the back of the building and when we step outside, I see a stylish, slick car awaiting us. He lets go of me as we emerge out of the back door. I turn to look at him and he gestures with his hands for me to go on, eagerly. I walk down the stairs that separate the car and myself and I see that Henry is sitting in there already. He looks so innocent and small, cowering in the corner of the back seat. I make a promise to myself that I will protect him in the arena. I want to communicate this to him, to tell him that I have his back and that I want to be his ally. But somehow, I think that this would tarnish my reputation as the defenseless, weak little girl from District 7.


End file.
